


The Dignified, Decorous, and Drunk Master Erestor

by EarendilEldar



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarendilEldar/pseuds/EarendilEldar
Summary: A nice, humourous little story in which Celebrimbor doesn't die (though, there will be threats to his life!) and Dwarves are a bad influence.Eregion is hosting one of its legendary celebrations and Erestor has a few drinks too many.  Well, he didn't think the stuff was that strong!





	The Dignified, Decorous, and Drunk Master Erestor

“Eres?”

“What…?” Erestor looked up, confused.  Why did Celebrimbor look as if shrouded in fog?  Perhaps the damper was improperly set… he’d have to have a word with the keeper of the hearths about minding that.

“Are you well, mela?” Celebrimbor asked worriedly.

“Course I am,” Erestor murmured.  “Too warm in here by the fire… I’m going outside for a bit.  Sit in the garden.”

Erestor rose from his chair in the hall and almost missed his footing on the first step forward. 

Celebrimbor was on his feet immediately beside his lover.  “You are not well,” he said quietly.  “Come, you must lie down.”  He quickly ushered Erestor out of the hall and toward their chambers.  He asked the first person he passed to send a healer up at once. 

“I don’t want to lie down,” Erestor protested when Celebrimbor tried to get him to rest in their bed.  “I’m too dizzy… let me stand still.”

“Has someone tried to poison you…?  Who would do such a thing!”  The only guests at their mid-winter celebration had been trusted allies… surely.

A knock at the door startled him, followed by a call from without.  “My lord?  You sent for a healer?”

“Yes, please come!” Celebrimbor called through to the outer chamber.  “I fear Master Erestor is under some poison.  He’s not at all well.  Please, Master Galen, you must help him!”

Eregion’s chief healer entered and knelt beside the bed, where Erestor sat, still fussing uneasily about being asked to sit when all he wanted was fresh air.  After looking over the counselor for some minutes, observing everything from the lack of focus in his eyes to the slowness of his pulse but unable to sense any foreboding, evil presence within him, the healer rose and shook his head.  “My lord, I believe Master Erestor is merely… well, drunk.”

“Are you certain?” Celebrimbor asked apprehensively.   “How can he have had that much?  It’s not even sundown and the casks from Dorwinion haven’t yet been unstopped!  How can there be anything so intoxicating being served this early in….”  Celebrimbor paused.  Their guests from Moria had brought several barrels of their ale to share, though they were likely to be the only ones consuming any of it.  And, anyway, ale was no stronger than water to an Elf!

Still….

“Eres, have you had any of the ale from Moria?” Celebrimbor asked, trying to get his beloved to focus on him. 

“Ale?  No, I’ve not.  Just had some roasted water.  Where did I leave my cup of it…?”

Celebrimbor looked at Galen the healer in question.  Whatever could this ‘roasted water’ be?  But the healer was no more enlightened than Celebrimbor.

“From where does this water originate, Master Counselor?” Galen asked.

“What?  However should I know that?  Now, I’ve had enough of this… I’m going back down.  Unseemly… being away from the hall so long.”  Erestor tried to stand and swayed again before Celebrimbor caught him, giving the healer an importunate look. 

“Perhaps if I examine the contents of that very cup,” Galen suggested.

“Yes, please, as quickly as you can,” Celebrimbor nodded. 

“I’m glad he’s gone,” Erestor grumbled, “he was annoying me.  Let’s go back to the celebration?”

“Not just yet,” Celebrimbor coaxed, trying to figure out ways of stalling Erestor until they could figure out what was causing his strange behaviour. 

Erestor just grinned and wagged a finger at Celebrimbor.  “Oh no!  I know what you’re trying to do.  Didn’t I say… unseemly!  They’ll know why we’re away from the hall.”

“I assure you, my beloved, that no one thinks any such thing,” Celebrimbor said soothingly.  “Anyone who’s ever met you knows you to be perfectly dignified and decorous.  Now, please, won’t you sit?  Just until we know if….”

“Don’t understand, Celeb… why are you sad?” Erestor murmured, finally looking closely at his lover and realizing that he seemed rather worried. 

“I just have to be sure you are well, mela,” Celebrimbor said, holding Erestor’s hands as he guided him to sit down again.  “I have to be sure you are well,” he repeated, kneeling beside him and stroking Erestor’s cheek.  “That’s all that matters to me.”

“I’m well, silly Elf,” Erestor grinned, leaning in to press his lips against Celebrimbor’s cheek.

There was a knock again at the outer chamber door and Galen re-entered, this time not alone.

“Tell me you know what it is?” Celebrimbor begged as Galen walked in, holding the vessel Erestor had been drinking from in the hall.  Celebrimbor had to look twice as he saw his Dwarven friend, Narvi, walk in beside Galen.

“Is this what you’d been drinking, Master Erestor?” Galen asked, handing Erestor the cup.

Erestor happily took the cup and polished off the remainder of its contents.  “Yes, I told you… roasted water, is it not, Master Dwarf?”

At that, Narvi finally gave up trying to stifle his laughter.  “Roasted water, he calls it!”

“Then what do you call it?” Celebrimbor asked a bit pointedly as he stood.

“Well, we call it _gaml_ , strong taste,” Narvi said, still snickering.  “Suppose it’s lived up to its name!”

“Strong?  Dwarf ale?” Celebrimbor said dubiously.

“Here, try it,” Narvi said, offering his own tankard.  “You lot always say our ale is like water to you.  So we decided to bring a new one.  The malt is burnt and we use plenty of sugar so it gets big and stout while brewing.  Nice and strong and dark!”

“I’m not certain it’s advisable for me to try this.  It looks… brackish,” Celebrimbor said, looking suspiciously at the tankard and glancing at Erestor, so was by then looking even more glazed.

“One sip won’t do _that_ to you, laddie,” Narvi chuckled.  “That’s the result of the six or seven cups he’s had.  Well, that an’ eating like an Elf all day, which is to say, not at all.”

Celebrimbor cautiously took a small sip.   “It does taste interesting… rather like it _is_ roasted….  Are you sure this is safe?”

“Of course it is!  This is my ninth cup already!  I think my friend the wise Counselor had better stick to your _gentle_ Elf-drinks from now on, though.  This ale is about as strong as your cordials, and he's not been sipping it from your pretty little crystal glasses,” Narvi said, sympathetically patting Erestor’s shoulder. 

Erestor slowly turned his head at the touch and blinked lazily, trying to focus.  “Cel’b…, ’s D’orf in the bedchamber…,” Erestor slurred just before tipping over and passing out cold.

Narvi roared with laughter as Celebrimbor caught Erestor and gently laid him on the bed, loosening the sash on his heavy, emerald green robes and unclasping the high placket.

“Come on, laddie, let him sleep it off.  Only thing for it,” Narvi said, tugging on Celebrimbor’s sleeve to get him to stop fussing over Erestor.  “Oh, he’ll want a draught for a headache when he wakes, Master Healer,” Narvi said, trying valiantly again to rein in his amusement. 

“What if he’s not alright?” Celebrimbor said, nervously glancing back even as he allowed his friend to lead him out of the chambers. 

“He’ll be fine, once his headache is passed.  Now… what say we introduce that pompous princeling from Greenwood to my ‘roasted water’ and see how he gets on with it,” Narvi snickered.

Celebrimbor gave Narvi a look for a long moment, then said, “Well, Erestor’s already going to kill me for letting him drink that much.  I suppose I might as well get a laugh out of it between now and then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Narvi said, thumping Celebrimbor on the back as they returned to the party in the halls.  “And I promise to make it up to your beloved – I’ll have a whole wagon of books sent over as soon as I’m home.”

“Oh, fine.  He’ll kill me and thank you,” Celebrimbor groaned.  “And Prince Thranduil will prevail upon his father to declare war on both of our realms.  It least it’s never dull around here!” 

 


End file.
